


Every plan has its holes

by bluesargayent



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't worry, Gen, Iroh isn't dead, Light Angst, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Zuko-Centric (Avatar), morally gray situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesargayent/pseuds/bluesargayent
Summary: Uncle wasn’t home and it was Zuko’s fault.He thought he and Azula had accounted for everything, but there always something that couldn't be planned for, wasn't there?
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Every plan has its holes

_Just one more_ , Zuko thought. He picked a clean shot glass out of the drying rack and once again filled it to the brim. 

He was definitely drunk. He could tell by the way the kitchen blurred and his arms moved more wildly than usual when he pulled the glass bottle off the shelf. Looking back the next day, he might realize how drunk he truly was, but for now he just knew it wasn’t enough. 

Normally, Uncle would have judged him for the indulgence. Zuko was old enough now, though, that Uncle couldn’t do much besides send him a concerned look if Zuko dared pull out a bottle of vodka in front of him. 

Not that Uncle could even do that, today.

Zuko tried not to make a habit of this. Drinking was a rare occasion for him, save for the sporadic social event, and always done in moderation. 

He had done the heavy nights of too many drinks to count when he was younger and the world seemed to forever refuse him a break. Now, he was content with his life and no longer felt the same urge to swallow his way into a realm free of thoughts 

But Uncle wasn’t here. 

Zuko could feel the gentle burn coat his throat, his stomach, the roof of his mouth. 

Uncle wasn’t home and it was Zuko’s fault. 

He thought he and Azula accounted for everything. They left movie ticket stubs in the bottom of her purse. She pirated the film on Ty Lee’s laptop last week to learn the plot she wasn’t able to experience herself that night. 

Mai switched jackets and wigs with Azula in the cinema bathroom, darkness disguising their features so any witness wouldn’t question if the girl who walked out in the first fifteen minutes of the movie was the same who returned. 

He thought they were thorough. 

Zuko initiated a Snapchat streak with Aang over a month ago, as soon as he realized the boy would screenshot any mildly interesting photo for posterity’s sake. That night, he took a picture with his sister and waited until exactly halfway through the movie to actually send it to his friend. There was no way Azula could sneak out of the theater, travel all the way home, and return within half the movie’s runtime.

After, they made sure to make a scene in the lobby. The ushers called the police and the siblings waited patiently for the security guards to make their appearance. What better alibi was there than a cop? He hadn’t even needed to lie that time.

Zuko’s phone buzzed. He knocked it onto the floor without looking at it. 

He knew from past nights spent leaning over the toilet that he should probably drink some water about now if he didn’t want to spend tomorrow moaning on the couch, stomach threatening him to empty itself on the floor and head assaulted from all sides. He didn’t. 

Belatedly, he realized that he should probably check the caller ID in case it was his uncle again. 

_Azula._

He didn’t question how she heard the news. 

“Lala,” he sighed. 

“You heard?” She asked. 

“That was dumb—we were so fucking _dumb_ , Zula! Why didn’t we—,”

“Zuko,” She warned. 

Zuko stopped talking. 

“Did they post bail?” Azula asked. 

Zuko had to think. “We—uh, yes. Bail. Do you have money?” Have your bank accounts been frozen, yet, he meant.

“For now,” Azula said. “I found some of mom’s old shit to pawn if we need to tomorrow.”

Zuko swallowed. At least now they had an excuse to meet up and talk. That had been the worst part of the ‘before’ portion of their plan; after so long keeping their distance from each other, spending an excessive amount of time together may have appeared suspicious if the police decided the situation deserved any amount of scrutiny. And, of course, it deserved scrutiny—their family was one of the most influential in the country, and one of the households most steeped in violence.

“Eight,” he finally responded. “They—the courts, they’re at eight.”

“You’re at Uncle’s? I’ll be there at seven.” She paused. Did she hang up? No, she continued with, “Make sure you’re sober. I can smell the Svedka through the phone.”

Now, the phone rumbled in his ears like the grating of rocks and Zuko was left alone once again. 

His sister had a plan, she always did. No matter how useless Zuko was, she found a way to make sure things turned out her way. 

_But she had a plan last time, too_ , he thought pettily. 

To be fair, the whole point of that first plan was to prove _he and Azula_ innocent. Technically, the plan wasn’t meant to involve Uncle at all. 

_Unless._

No. Oh no.

She wouldn’t. 

_Would she?_

In the past couple of years, Zuko dedicated a large amount of time to helping his sister realize the things that had taken him so much time to comprehend on his own. Things about their childhood, themselves, the world. It had taken a while, but eventually they arrived at, well, not quite the same page. Perhaps, they found themselves in the same book. They finally understood each other.

After that, Azula promised they’d always have each other’s back. He mostly didn’t doubt this. 

But Uncle…

He could still hear the buzzing of the phone bombarding his ears. His previous melancholic mood collapsed and he stumbled his way to the bathroom. Against his wishes, his momentum left him propping his upper body above the toilet bowl by his elbows. 

Memories of the crime scene forced their way into his head. 

His father, face cold and sour, slumped in his chair, not a visible scratch on him. 

Dead. 

Zuko wanted to burn the man alive, but Azula said that was too risky. Too obvious. 

_It’s better like this, ZuZu._

They agreed not to tell Uncle anything about their plan. Not before, and not after. Regardless of his suspicions, there was no need to involve him any more than necessary. Somehow, Zuko found it harder to lie to the old man than to the dozens of investigators he met in the days since.

He knew what his father would do in this situation; let the blame fall where it may, even if it meant leaving his uncle to rot in jail, so long as he walked free.

He knew Azula knew that too. 

Zuko shook his head. Would they ever be free of their father? He could feel the nagging voice of Ozai taunting him as he gagged. 

In his nightmares, his father never had burns, either. 

“Fuck you,” he whispered. 

They weren’t their father. Their father died by their hands. They couldn’t let him win, even now, beyond death. 

They wouldn’t. 

Zuko puked away the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the ambiguity here is purposeful--namely, whether Azula truly meant to set up Iroh or not. 
> 
> For you young people out there, please be careful with alcohol! Drink lots of water between drinks to counter nausea and because, even if you're young, a bad hangover can still put you out for most of the next day. Plus, getting heavily drunk on your own isn't great because things like alcohol poisoning and choking on your vomit while sleeping is possible and a lot harder to prevent when on your own. I can't tell you what to do, but please be careful drinking young because it can be addicting and cause lots of health and legal problems. >okay, psa over<
> 
> I tried to tag appropriately without spoiling anything, but if you guys notice anything I missed, please let me know.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)


End file.
